


Terrible Fate

by artificialsleeping



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: DA/LoZ Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:12:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialsleeping/pseuds/artificialsleeping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is not the Hero of Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrible Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don't know what this is either but I wrote it so here you go.

She is not the Hero of Time.

She has the mark on her hand, and long ears, and evil has found her as surely as an arrow from her bow.

But she is not the Hero of Time. How can she be? She is a Dalish youth, one of the elusive wanderers of the Free Marches. She knows nothing of the world. She is so young. 

And when she fails to save the world from this evil, as she ultimately will, the real Hero of Time will rise up, finally, and do the job he is supposed to. 

If she does not die in this desert first, that is.

It feels as if the sand and the dry wind has taken everything from her: the water in her body, the will in her spirit, her very skin, which is chapped and rough.

She doesn’t realize she has fallen to her knees until Solas puts his hands under her arms and hauls her up. She cannot even muster the energy necessary to tell him to let her rest; her throat feels like parchment. Her legs move under her, and she leans on him, and they go on.

‘How did I get here?’ she thinks, and for a moment she truly can’t remember. The blur of her thoughts is like slow dripping honey, and the pain of her body is an all encompassing symphony.

“This is not the worst of it,” Solas tells her, and presses the lip of a bottle to her mouth. 

She drinks, and her vision clears, and she looks at his face, squinting through the grit in the dry air. He is beautiful. She tells him.

“You’re delirious,” he says tightly, “And we are still two days out from our destination. I need you to be strong.” He is speaking to her a bit like one would a child, which is unfair. She doesn’t know his exact age, but he is certainly not an old man. 

She doesn’t know who he is, or what he is, but his voice is strong and proud, and he does not let her fall.

He is not an old man and she is not the Hero of Time, and she is not going to die in this desert. 

When she laughs, Solas looks concerned. She wills more strength onto her legs, and ducks her head against the wind. 

It’s alright, for now. She can pretend.

She will carry this sword, and this task, and she will stay alive. The Hero of Time is out there, and until courage finds him, she will have to be brave.


End file.
